A still growing word-prison, lines of information:
‘detailed description of programs, justification
of priorities under guidelines’ – oh, forgive me –
my heart freezes, I flee seeking romanticism,
the solace of escape
I am weary of being scared, running from a cold
embrace of black despair; while the world burns
and my mind fries forcing myself to read is torture
enough – I’m not growing morally, the appalling
isolation of a text that at best makes readers
Suicidal yet is adamant it is to be treated with
respect, tediously requires exact meanings of
each term researched while really important
things – sweetness of a melody, a warm look
in caring eyes, flowers that will soon die,
Wonder of a new life – are deemed unworthy of
a second glance: at least my headache serves its
purpose – makes it impossible to run away. The
manacles are in my head, I am chained to my
chair and cannot escape in a million years,
No song is heard, no dance commences in this
slow decay of colour and vivacity, only adagios
and coffin bearers sway – the rest is dead
Tuesday 26 Tuesday 2013
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